Oligochaeta

He was born with out eyes or ears. Only fragments of his body moving him closer to the pavement. He lives in the soil. Burying himself deeper in the ground, hiding from the sun that dries him out. He simply sticks to the earth and the birds prey and feed when it rains. Slipping in to tight holes, leaving behind a sticky mess, this goes on for ever. Today it poured for 3 days, leaving him vulnerable. Can't run any where ( aint got no legs ) can't fly any where ( aint ever had wings ) He awakes in before day break looking around for his other sticking out of the ground. They wrap around each other and fall faint to the morning dew. Before its light, they must finish, they go faster and faster, never letting go and feeding off one another. Just as the act is finish some one realizes the picks them apart. They are only minerals now. Only for the use of the process.

Palms

Sweet nectar gathering on lips of mothers now and forgotten. Savaging around for warmth radiating off the river. Twists our wrist wrong, and the pain is last a long time. Building up words of wisdom, moving in and out of random beds, we find our selves believing once again that this is just as lethal as they come. Growing wings, the sound scape of open fields comports and provides, leaves us bleeding in the most meticulous ways. Ideas flowing faster than the mouth can speak, speaking louder now, only so the vast amount of herds that roam here have grown scared and uneasy.

I sleep alone most nights, the sky my blanket. I feel my heart sinking deeper every day. Falling with the galaxies, turning in to a cosmic relief. I havnt felt the rest of the world yet. I havnt even felt myself.

I hate the way the night leaves its self in me.
I wish to the unholy to sanction me a home.
I've got one chance to live. I'm going to choose to float.